Surprise Visit

We met at a snack stand out by Lake Merced. It was late February and a warm late winter weekend with brilliant weather as is typical of San Francisco that time of the year. I'd decided against skiing that weekend and went bicycling instead. She was bicycling with a friend and fellow teacher. I'd just gotten my coffee and sat down at one of the snack stand's picnic tables when I noticed the two young women getting off their bikes.

First thing to catch my eye was the dark brown, almost black hair that had a hint of red -- in a way auburn, but too dark to be real auburn. Then there were the big brown eyes, olive skin typical of folks from around the Mediterranean and their descendants - a prominent nose. Her girlfriend had curly brown hair almost down to her shoulders, wasn't carrying an excess ounce and unlike Rachel, didn't have much protruding from her chest. Rachel wasn't big titted, but her protrusions were prominent enough that it was easy to imagine them good for a lot of play.

The two sat down at the other end of table where I was and then Rachel's friend went to get coffees. Sort of accidentally, our eyes met, I nodded with a slight smile and got a smile in return. We were chatting before her friend returned and I soon moved closer to them.

Our first date was a week afterwards and we became intimate on our fourth date. Two and a half years older than I, she was also several years longer out of college and working - as a high school history teacher. That first time and several times thereafter, she seemed somewhat hesitant about having sex, like she was struggling with some kind of moral issue. Didn't have an orgasm until we'd screwed maybe a half dozen times. I even got the idea that maybe she wasn't very experienced. It even occurred to me that she might be a virgin and had lost her cherry riding horses, but when I asked her if she'd ever been on a horse, she said she hadn't ever. So, I just assumed that she'd fucked this or that guy in high school or college. Maybe a drunken party, a good-looking guy who spewed out a good line and her hymen had ended up in the dustbin of history.

However, once she'd had that first orgasm with me, things changed, at first slowly, almost unnoticeably, then faster. By the time May rolled around, we were having some wild sessions with her matching my thrusts, different positions, sometimes at night and then again in the morning -- especially on weekends. And it wasn't just the physical sex. Rachel turned out to possess a ribald sense of humour and was able to flirt with me in a way that could make me get hard without a touch being exchanged.

By June we were talking about getting an apartment together. But then my job got in the way. Towards the end of June, my immediate supervisor at Auchland and Sanders rang and asked me to come see him. Entering his office, I got a really shitty feeing when I saw that a guy from Human Resources was there -- obviously to sit in on our meeting. Having been hired right out of university only a year before, I was pretty sure (and afraid) the topic of the meeting was going to be the opposite of a promotion for me.

To my surprise and relief, it turned out that the meeting was about a promotion -- sort of. The Human Resources guy started off the meeting. "Gene, you started here as a junior accountant just a little over a year ago -- right out of the university. It seems that you've taken to corporate accounting quite well." Turning to my supervisor, he got a nod of the head out of him before continuing. "Anyway, the reason we asked you in here is we've got a special assignment for you. You see, we got this client down near Fresno -- big agribusiness outfit, they grow almonds, oranges, cotton, among other things - they want to get deeper into the processing side of business. So, they're building an almond processing plant out near a place called Three Rocks. Believe it or not, that's the name of the place. Problem is, they think they're getting ripped off by the contractor, the architect or the engineer or all three or maybe even somebody inside the company."

I stared at the HR guy. "And you want me to go down there and find out who's ripping the client off? Me? And who else?"

"You'll be going alone. The client's convinced if we send a team, the culprit's gonna get scared and lay off for a while. We send you alone, a young guy, the culprit's not gonna suspect that the client is suspicious. Besides you got a construction background." (My construction background was working for my dad's construction company during school holidays. Dad's 'company' did home remodels, additions, repairs, etc. and sometimes had 1 and even 2 employees. When I applied for the job with A&S, I just mentioned that I'd worked for Arthur Lambros Construction during school holidays and didn't include a company brochure, which did not exist anyway.)

"So how long am I gonna be living in, uh Three Rocks?"

"Gene, you don't have to live in Three Rocks. Fresno is an easy commute and you'll find lots of good housing there. The way it looks, you'll be there for 6 months for sure. Maybe longer, depending. It'll pay you to rent an apartment. Plenty nice apartments in Fresno and half the price of stuff here in the Bay Area."

And so it turned out that I, Gene Lambros, junior accountant, 1 year out of the University of Indiana, got posted alone to Three Rocks in California's Central Valley to sniff out some crooks who were suspected of ripping off a giant agribusiness company.

Needless to say, my new love, Rachel, was not happy about my 'promotion' since it meant I'd be moving almost 200 miles away. However, after some tears, she started realising that the 6-week school summer holiday would start in a few weeks, and she could come down and live with me in whatever apartment I'd be renting.

I was making some last-minute entries as the end of another workday approached. So far, I hadn't turned up anything more than a suspicion that the client had been too optimistic in financial planning of the new plant and the owners were now shitting their pants over the actual costs.

It was mid-July and typical of mid-July in California's Central Valley, it was hotter than hammered hell. But air conditioning and a pool at the apartment complex in Fresno, where I'd had rented a one-bedroom unit, made life rather liveable. Making life even more liveable and waiting for me at the apartment was Rachel, who as foreseen, had moved in with me for the duration of her summer break.

Rachel was indeed something to look forward to getting home to. She had one of those ebullient personalities that I thought, at the time, was typical of New Yorkers and that she radiated with a strong Brooklyn accent. But that wasn't all. What really got me turned on was her ribald sense of humour combined with an ever increasingly more enthusiastic attitude toward sex -- an attitude that was evidenced by the speed at which she got damp and ready to receive. In fact, it seemed to me that all I had to do was let her know I was getting hard and bingo! Just like that she was ready!

And what a contrast that was to Podunk, Indiana where I grew up! Back there, girls were proud of going to their marriage beds with intact hymens. Now marrying a girl with an untouched pussy isn't, in itself, so bad. The trouble is, once in their marriage beds, these chronic hymen defenders often end up being careful to not show too much enthusiasm.

However, there was one aspect of the relationship bothered me. I found myself being jealous of her life experience. Rachel had travelled: South America, Europe, Australia and New Zealand. And being a couple years older than me, she also had work (and life) experiences. On the other hand, when we met, I was barely a year out of college and until starting the job with A&G, I'd never been out of the Indiana and some neighbouring states. But more important, until meeting Rachel, my sexual experience was limited to a bunch of feels over clothing and one awkward fuck with a real dog of a girl in Podunk High School.

Rachel had never told me outright about her previous sexual experiences or even talked about any guy that she had slept with. But from her sense of humour and easy way with sex, I knew it just had to be that she'd had many sexual partners and although I accepted the truth of that, I really didn't want to hear specifics like names, description, size, etc. That was just my way of handling the jealousy. But ever so often, she would come out with something that essentially told me she had boffed lots of guys. Once when we'd been talking about the county's campaign to control STD's, something just slipped out. "Oh boy, when I was traveling in Europe, I was really careful." Later I wondered what she would have said if I'd asked her about the care she'd taken, with whom and how often.

Once at a dinner party with a half dozen friends, talk had turned to skiing. The ultimate conversationalist, Rachel simply had to make as many contributions as possible and what just sort of happened to slip out was a story about a ski holiday in Vermont. "There was this time at Stowe, we had this motel where there was no hot water in the morning, and we couldn't shower. Can you imagine getting dressed without .........." My reading on that was that she and her mate were all sticky after a night in the hay and hadn't been able to wash it off before getting dressed in the morning. The next day I'd asked her about it and she had exploded. "How come you're always so jealous? Fuck, I'm twenty-five! Its like you think I'm a nun or something!"

At one point not too long after we'd met, she had accidentally mentioned that sometime before leaving for California, the relationship she was in had broken up. I hadn't asked any questions -- out of jealous fear I'd have to hear about the guy and maybe how they'd always needed lube -- because of his size.

There was one more thing about Rachel that stood out and would probably doom our relationship: Her fits and rages. The first few times, I'd thought she was having her period, but consulting the calendar suggested something else was going on. Then I remembered that in the past she'd taken pills to control her appetite (and weight) and I figured the pills were responsible. It was only years later that I learned about bi-polar personalities and realised that Rachel's personality was a perfect fit.

Arriving back at my apartment complex, I saw Rachel, a strong swimmer, in the pool. I rushed inside, changed into trunks and rushed out to join her in the pool. Something like a half hour later she said she'd had enough for the day. Not being a very talented or enthusiastic swimmer, I was just satisfied to have gotten my body cooled down.

Inside the living room, what was becoming almost like a ritual happened. We embraced, lips together, tongues exchanged and bodies in wet swim gear grinding together, Rachel, clearly feeling the pressure of my bulge, let me know she felt it. "Boy, water really gets you going!"

I broke off long enough to pull my still-wet trunks down towards my knees and pushed my groin against her abdomen, which was bare between her bikini top and bottom. "Feel that?"

Her answer was action before words as I felt a feminine hand on my shaft and in her eager sexy voice, she cooed, "Yeah but this way's better ain't it?" Then some pleasant manipulation and, "Oh Gene, you're really ready!"

Meanwhile my hand made its way into her bikini bottom and midst in her bush, I found a very moist slit. The taste of her breath turned coppery. Working her magic button made her body writhe. My cock felt like it was ready to burst. I broke off and after getting my trunks completely off, took one of her hands to hold my balls while the other, on its own volition, grasped my shaft again, and stroked it eagerly. "Gene honey, we both know where this needs to be."

I rid her of the bikini top and then tugged down the bottom. On my knees I kissed the brown bush and then helped her down. In spite of her passionate state, Rachel was not beyond practicality. "The carpet. Right here on the carpet?"

"Fuck yes, that's why the make carpet shampoo."

Down on the carpet together, my finger went for where my dick needed to go. My middle finger easily entered the sopping wet passage. Her legs parted and her knees went up. Then my throbbing cock was in that warm wet paradise and Rachel was panting and gasping.

As had developed into our most common routine, I held back until after Rachel's cooing moan and yelp. Then our bodies, sweaty in spite of the air conditioning, collapsed together as the juices of our encounter ran down her inner thighs and ass crack and on to the carpet. Yes indeed, the carpet would need shampooing - sooner rather than later.

Afterwards, we showered together and got dressed. Then my inevitable question. "Got anything in mind for dinner?"

"Honey, I thought we might go out for Mexican. Well actually, I never mentioned it, but an old friend from New York called a few days ago. He got my number, actually yours, from Mom. Anyway he's never had Mexican, at least not real California Mexican so I thought maybe we could go to Casa Munoz?"

Never adverse to Mexican food, I nearly agreed without question. But then thinking better, "Uh, who's this friend?"

"Gene honey, don't be jealous, Seth is someone I've known a long time. We're just friends. You'll like him. Really good sense of humour, interesting, travelled a lot."

"If I'm not supposed to be jealous, how come you waited until the last minute to tell me?"

At that point, Rachel exhibited one of her less desirable characteristics: Abruptly changing from sweet to nasty: "Why can't you ever be just normal? Always this suspicion! You're always suspicious every time I do something without asking you! Why do you have to be such a control freak? I don't do that to you! Can't we just trust each other and act like normal people?"

I may have gained lots of societal and sexual know-how from Rachel, but dealing with a bi-polar personality was something that neither Rachel nor many experts could have taught me. All I was ever able to do was to placate her. "Okay, look Rachel, I guess it came out wrong. It just surprised me. And it's not been such an easy week. I'm really sorry to have hurt you like that."

But Rachel wasn't done. "Look dammit, Seth's just a friend from New York. A friend, that's it. He's out here on vacation and just thought to stop by and say hello. Before he left New York, he called Mom for my number. Is that such a big deal?"

Without even wondering what I had to be sorry about, I did it. "Okay Sweetheart, I'm really sorry I acted so suspicious. Of course you shouldn't have to tell me every little thing right off the bat. Can we kiss and make up?"

We kissed but unlike an hour earlier, without me getting a hard-on.

"So what time is, uh, Seth supposed to get here?"

It was almost an hour before the doorbell rang. Rachel went to the door and behind her, I saw a squat and swarthy guy, not fat, not thin, black curly hair, roughish unkempt black beard, dressed in blue shorts and a loose white short-sleeved shirt. There followed the ebullient greetings and hugs so typical of New Yorkers.

Afterwards over dinner at Casa Munoz, Rachel and Seth dominated the conversation, initially with stories about common friends and then slowly leading into something else, namely their own common background. My ears started perking up when I noticed that both Seth and Rachel began cutting off in the midst of sentences. It was as if neither wanted to betray something in their common background. That was when I began listening more closely and wondering more about the true nature of the relationship she'd had with Seth.

Back at my apartment, Seth said he'd brought some really good shit along from home and suggested we all relax with a smoke. I'm anything but a big user -- in truth, I actually hate the stuff. But I went along with the proposal, if nothing else to show Seth that I wasn't the uptight guy from Indiana like I knew he thought I was. Rachel on the other hand was more enthusiastic, however, knowing how I hated the stuff, she hadn't pushed me to smoke in the months we'd been together.

Seth's stuff turned out to be really good shit and all three of us got pleasantly high but in different ways. Rachel and Seth got even more gabby about good times back in New York. I got sleepy and before too long said I needed to get some sleep -- work tomorrow. Rachel begged off going to bed. "Gene sweetie, Seth and I got so much to talk about. You don't mind if he and I stay up awhile, do you? We promise to be quiet."

Of course, I agreed. What else was there to do? Force Rachel to come to bed right at that minute? In bed, after a few jealous thoughts of Rachel and Seth enjoying each other's company in the living room, I dropped off thinking about the excitement of the next day at work -- checking invoices for concrete and reinforcing steel.

Sometime very early in the morning, realising my bladder wanted relief, I got up to piss. Coming out of the bathroom into the little hallway that connected the bathroom, bedroom and living room, I was now slightly more awake. The light that was still on in the living room and the muffled voices reminded me that I had left Seth and Rachel in the living room when I went to bed. Damn but they must have lots of mutual friends and stuff back in New York to gab about!. Becoming more awake, it occurred to me that the voices didn't sound like from people gabbing about the good old days. Curiosity wetted, I peaked into the living room and witnessed a scene that jolted me 100% awake.

On the living room floor was the hairy back of a naked man with hips undulating. From beneath him smooth feminine legs protruded. Then the voices came through more clearly, a feminine one: "Ahh, ahhee, oh, ohh, ohhhh Seth!" And a masculine one: "Rachel, oh fuck, oh fuck Rachel!" No mistake, Seth and my girlfriend, Rachel, were fucking on the living room floor of my apartment! My first emotion was to be extremely pissed at being cuckolded right under my nose and thoughts of violent revenge went through my mind. However, I am not by nature a revengeful person and we were not in Texas where myth had it that the law allowed a husband to kill a man he found cheating with his wife. Besides, I didn't own a gun and Rachel wasn't my wife.

Should I step in shouting and order Seth to leave? And Rachel as well? Maybe so, but I am also by nature a curious person. Like a lot of people, I'd never observed a real live couple having sexual intercourse. Somehow it was fascinating, Rachel's moans and pants, Seth's "oh fucks" and grunts. The writhing, sweating bodies, Seth's hairy ass cheeks rising and pounding down, Rachel's pushing back up. Neither seemed to get enough. Well, indeed, with him too, Rachel was a real sexual being who with me, often blacked out when an orgasm got especially intense.

Finally, I turned away and leaned against the hallway wall, out of sight of the copulating couple, digesting what I'd just seen. That's when I realised that I was erect, at least partially. Then I heard a louder male groan and feminine squeals. Obviously, both had peaked, simultaneously, or at least nearly so. I had an irresistible urge to look again. Not wanting to be seen, I carefully peaked around the end of the wall. An obviously spent Seth had collapsed atop an equally obviously spent Rachel.

"Oh Seth, stay inside me, please! Oh Seth, you feel so good, you fill me so nice!"

"Rachel, I've missed you so much. Why'd you leave me like you did?"

"Let's just enjoy each other's bodies while we can."

"Like we used to?"

"Yeah!"

Seth's head moved and they kissed passionately. When they broke off kissing, Seth rolled off and lay beside her on his back. Alone the sight of his amazingly long and thick member glistening with the juices of their sex gave me a jolt of jealousy. Adding to my jealousy was the sight of Rachel, who had remained on her back, with her legs still parted as if to cool out. Her labia were partly visible in her opened slit and her brown pubic hair was matted and sported white flecks.